design, art, sh*t, fun

On my way to work on Monday, a van decided to be impatient. I can not fault the guy for that, for that is how I ride my bike, as anyone who rides with me can attest. This morning was different. No helmet, mine is broken from carrying it a while ago, and for once I was on time. Also, I miss read the traffic. About 200 feet from work a van pulled out, rather abruptly into traffic, directly in front of me. This, in it self, was no big deal because the van carried on with the flow of traffic. Directly after that happened, I looked backwards to see if the cab behind me had noticed the fact that there was now a van where there had previously been empty space, with me in between. Looking forward again, I noticed that the van was no longer moving, it apparently had decided to stop and go right down an ally, and not let anyone know, Failing to signal. Now even that is a negligible offense, however, this time since the van had only been in the flow of traffic for a mere car length before deciding to go right and come to a stop left me just that distance to look back to front and slam... I did break, causing me to rotate directly over my front wheel and into the van's bumper. Luckily, my head stopped the rest of my body from hitting the van, though I did decide to slam my knee into the ground out of shear spite. Apparently I am "thick headed," as I was not knocked unconscious. The cab behind me immediately started to honk, making me think that I was in the way, so I tried to get up leaning on the van, which then decided to leave. I then toppled over again, succeeding in punching my self in the mouth, to which the cab behind honked again. In response to this, I clambered up and dragged my bike to the sidewalk. I propped myself up against number 75 Kingwilliams St., to self asses. Bleeding from top of head and right knee through hole in jeans. The cabby got out and handed me some paper towels, and told me to hold it on my head, then a man named Gram, came and asked me if I was ok. I told him I was slightly embarrassed. The cabby then produced some water and washed off my fore arm as it was covered in blood from my head, he told me it was not a good look, stood my bike up and then he took off. Gram called an ambulance and about 15 minutes later it actually showed up. Gram is the man by the way. He was late to a meeting with some horrible business woman. I know this because he got a call from her, asking him where he was. Gram told her where he was, just outside with a bloke bleeding from the head. She, I think, did not believe him and came down to investigate, just as the meat wagon showed up. I thanked Gram, who later showed up to my work to see if I was ok, though I was still at the hospital, and then I went into the ambulance. This part is boring, so just before we fast forward to the point where they actually started to drive me away, I will only note, that before any medic got out to take a look, they all had to fill out paperwork before then eve got out of the meatwagon. So odd the world is. But yeah, the paramedics were very nice, dropped my bike off at work, tied a massive bow on top of my head to hold the bandage on at my request, and then left me at the door to the hospital after some more paperwork. 2.5 hours later I was moved to the place where they stitched me up. But I was entertained with a mass of drunk bleeding people for an hour before they could get to me. The doctor was very nice, and did a good job putting me back together. She even noticed a second laceration on the top of my head that no one else did and put two stitches into that. There were two medical students who were learning how to suture, and so, even though I could not see what she was doing, I got a full description what she was doing, right down to the angle and distance into the flesh the needle goes... yup I almost puked... But anyway after that I walked 20 min back to work, and then went home. I successfully angered, worried and humored most of the people who know me. Sorry about that, next time I will wear a helmet so as not to receive 9 stitches in my head, a very stiff neck and a wrecked knee. But now for what you really want. My horrid little phone is only capable of a mere 2 mega pixels of imagery, so bear with my grainy and bad photo skills.

This is the top of my head before I got stitched up

And this is after the nice lady stitched me up: